


Never Want To Say It's Love

by Mariss95



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Not a love triangle fic, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariss95/pseuds/Mariss95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-S2 finale scenes. Finding a new normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Light outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity go back to the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: this story now is sort of a series of post-finale scenes. If I write more I’ll probably post them here.  
> I didn’t think I would write more post-finale ficlets but this conversation was stuck in my mind and ended up writing it down. To the ones that have already read this story, I've shifted the chapter's order to the correct timeline, since as I kept writing I realized some events happened before than others and it could get confusing.  
> Hope you like it!

They walk into his house at sunset. Two flights before Diggle parted ways, a silent car ride after she noticed her phone and keys were still in the manor.

Deafening silence meets them inside, the echo of the door closing being the only sound. It’s still empty, furniture few and scattered around. Power is down, Slade’s men’s doing; yet sunlight streams through the large windows, bathing the room in a warm light.

He walks ahead of her, bee lining to the camera in the foyer and crushing it without hesitation. She watches his stance for a moment, the tension in his shoulders, the sorrow in his eyes; then wanders into the library and retrieves her phone from where she’d stashed it earlier. She takes a second, leans on the empty bookshelf and collects herself, memories of the last few days rushing through her mind.

When she goes back through the corridor to the entrance he’s no longer there. A quick look around propels her to the living room where she finds him by the window. Light shines brightly against his skin, lightening the darkness he’s usually around.

Oliver turns to her; apparently she’s not as stealth as him. A surprising smile tugs at his lips, as if beckoning her forward. She does, softly padding through the room until she’s by his side, light shining on her as well.

They both ponder in silence, eyes lost in the sunset outside, a sight so beautiful and hopeful, a stark contrast to what life had been like these past few weeks.

He moves first, facing her again, her face turning sideways to meet his eyes. She doesn’t even think about it, it’s like magnetism that draws her to him, mirror his every move.

“I want… I need to thank you, Felicity,” his voice breaks the silence, calm, collected.

She is taken aback.

“Why?”

“For saving my life.” The intensity he puts forth in his voice and the look in his eyes takes her breath away for a moment. Then her coping mechanism kicks in, the one that shields her for reading too much into it.

“I think we did that part together. Granted, I would’ve liked you filling me on the plan beforehand, maybe cluing in the rest of the team too; but hey, it worked.”

He smiles warmly at her.

“It did.”

She gives him one of her best Felicity Smoak smiles, the kind that can light up a room, even if it’s filled with angst ridden vigilantes.

“That’s not all I was thanking you for though.”

Her brow furrows, and he makes up his mind; taking a step forward however small it may be.

“You believed in me when nobody did. When… Laurel told me I was a cold-blooded killer you said I was a _hero_. I never saw myself like that, I just saw myself as–,” a pause, eyes lost in the distance, “ _broken_.”

She can see death and pain playing in his features, his shoulders slumping visibly. She hesitates, her hands itching to lie on his arm, trying to offer comfort in a way he wouldn’t turn her down. But she waits, curious eyes studying the play of emotions he displays, his mask clearly torn over time and completely discarded now before her.

“If it weren’t for you… honestly I have no idea where or who I’d be right now. But I know it wouldn’t be safe, _whole_ … I’d be probably dead even.”

Breath hitches in her throat at the mere thought of losing him; the fact he had been willing to give up on life in favor of all of them still troubled her mind. She didn’t understand how he could see himself as anything short of a hero.

“Please, don’t…” she breathes, burying the sight of a lifeless Oliver from her mind.

He takes her reaction in and reaches for her, his right hand now pressing firmly on her shoulder. Blue eyes flutter open and meet his, lighter than she’s ever seen them before. A burden’s been lifted –a very threatening Australian-sounding burden to be precise– and she couldn’t be happier to see him acknowledging who he is, who she’s always seen his as.

“You are a hero, Oliver. Not only to me but to Starling.”

“I believe that now. I didn’t understand how you could think that of me, how you could see a part of myself I wasn’t even sure was there.”

His palm slides down her arm, his gentle touch sending warmth through her body. She barely registers as he takes a step forward, the space between them scarce yet too much as the same time.

“Thank you for making me the man I am today.”

She manages to give him a slight nod, her lips curling up into a soft smile that he can’t help but return. A beat passes as they stare into each other’s eyes, searching, not sure for what, but finding it nonetheless.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, having you in my life.”

“I think living in purgatory for half a decade does it.” She quips, drawing a full on smile from him.

His hand stops at her hand, fingers caressing the back of it before taking it in his. Blue meets blue as a silent conversation goes through, one of many they’d shared over time.

‘ _I meant it_ ’, ‘ _I know_ ’, ‘ _I’m not ready_ ’, ‘ _I know. One day we will be_ ’.

‘ _I can’t wait._ ’


	2. Keep me warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It dawns on her after a moment of quiet. _He’s got nowhere to go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote a thing inspired on [yesterday’s dialogue teases](http://releaseurinhibitions.tumblr.com/post/95881405717/littlegirlinvisible-omfg-stay-at-my-place) (I know there are probably plenty of drabbles about that already around, but wanted to write these scenes out anyway so hope you’re not too tired of it); and also based on [this prompt](http://geodude96.tumblr.com/post/86767835329/olicity-fanfic-prompt) by [geodude96](http://geodude96.tumblr.com/) (that I have genderbent, hope you don’t mind!).   
> Hope you guys like it!!

 

It dawns on her after a moment of quiet. _He’s got nowhere to go._

They are still standing in his living room, the last rays of light dimming in the distance as night threatens to take over them. 

Oliver’s hand remains enclosed around hers, his fingers ghosting over soft skin trying to chase the darkness away. Then a pang of pain on her leg reminds her of the car crash earlier, muscles complaining on all the standing and walking around too. 

That’s when she craves home; that’s when she realizes Oliver probably does too, but doesn’t have any -the lost look on his face more than proving her point-.

He has places but not ones that count today. The foundry is a wreck and as for the manor, it feels terribly hollow and cold, clouded with ghosts and danger; surely not what he needs right now, especially if he feels half as drained as she does.

She makes up her mind in a second, giving his hand a light tug to gain his attention. When their eyes lock she musters as much strength as she possibly can for her voice to sound steady, commanding.

“Stay at my place tonight.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, a non-refutable offer that coupled with a tilt of her head makes any impending complaint die at his lips. 

A grateful smile graces them instead, one that he hopes conveys as much as the one at the beach did.

Before long she’s guiding him towards the door, the darkness that begins to take over the manor being left behind as they ride away on his bike.

 

* * *

 

Her place is messier than it usually is as she turns the lights on; all the life saving and chasing after superhuman evil soldiers over those past few weeks having taken a toll on her house keeping. 

Yet she knows it doesn’t matter, not for him, not for her right now. That is a morning problem, after a nice hot bath and a good night sleep... maybe in another order, she ponders as her leg throbs with pain.

Crossing the threshold Felicity takes off her boots as she walks further inside, toes curling with relief when they make contact with the cold tiles of her kitchen floor. Oliver remains anchored in the spot by her door, eyes scanning the place by the time she comes back and offers a glass of water his way.

“What’s wrong? Scratch that, that’s a pretty dumb question right now, with a hell of a lot of answers. What are you looking for?”

He barely moves at her question, yet draws comfort from the fact that’s the most either of them have spoken in quite a while.

“Cameras or microphones.” He mutters in a hushed tone, always aware that danger is right around the corner, especially when you least expect it.

“There’re none,” she promptly assures matter of factly, “I scan for those all the time, and there’s no way anyone bypassed my security set up without alarming my phone, A.R.G.U.S. or not.”

That seems to get his attention, dropping his guard to some extent, pride written in those deep blue eyes when they meet hers. She manages to give him a lopsided smile, though faint and barely masking the tiredness that weights her down. 

Silence stretches on for a beat as they simply stand there, another of those charged moments in which their unspoken thoughts fill the air and do their best to be conveyed one longing look at the time. 

It doesn’t escape her attention these are happening quite often after that somewhat truthful confession of his almost twenty-four hours prior. She’s pretty darn sure they won’t stop if he keeps looking at her like _that_ , warming something deep within her that she’s been trying to hold back for so long.

He seems to be inching towards her; not making a move really but closing in on her senses, deep blues boring into hers until they become too much, way too much for a single day. Before she can filter them through, words leave her lips in a flurry, a feeble attempt to make things less charged between them.

“You need to be in my bed.”

As soon as her brain takes in what has been said, way too late really, her eyes snap shut; but not before she can see his pop wide open -his mind surely having gone _there_ as well-.

“I meat _sleeping_ in my bed, not with me in it of course, that would not be a great idea...” she fumbles meeting his gaze again, “because you are ginarmous and my bed’s not as big to fit us both without you being all over me and oh my god, I’m just gonna shut up and blame that one to exhaustion that is weakening the already feeble filter my brain normally has.”

By the end of her babbling a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips, barely twitching upwards but she’ll take it. Getting those kind of reactions, especially in times like these, make any verbal slips worth it.

“The guest room’s bed will do just fine.”

His voice is warm, still low and wearied from lack of sleep, the day’s events weighting down on them hard as they finally took a breath.

“Yeah, that is no longer there though, I may have given it away to Mrs. Harris down the hall after hers broke down a month ago,” she shares running a hand through her hair before another thought bubbles up, “wait... how did you know-?”

The implied question hangs in the air as he does his best to look sheepish while shrugging, a hint of humor lacing his words when he finally explains himself.

“You updated your security system _after_ joining the team.”

Felicity simply shakes her head, trying not to dwell on the fact that he’s been here before, without her consent and most probably going through her things. He had in fact admitted to checking her out before approaching her for his night activities... not _that_ kind of checking her out though, that she was aware of. 

Anger and laying down privacy rules will have to wait for another day, she thinks as Oliver fails to fight back a yawn.

“So, that leaves my bed, for you.”

“Felicity-,” he begins arguing only to be silenced by a finger to his lips, his eyes gluing themselves to the newly established contact. _That is one way to shut him up, maybe not the preferred one... oh shut up, brain!_

“I already know what the next words out of your mouth will be so just save them. Chivalry to the side, you are _definitely_ more in need of a comfy bed that I am, broken ribs and all.” She adds gesturing to his chest with her free hand. 

Another moment passes until he raises an eyebrow, his sight back to his still covered lips making her pull them away, suddenly very aware of them beneath her fingers, _chapped and thin, but oh so gentle... mind out of the gutter, Felicity!_

“Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s okay, thank you,” he offers still amazed by how she keeps trying to take care of him, even when she so clearly needs care too. ”but don’t think I haven’t noticed you limping all this time.” 

Felicity blushes, recounting the three times he has offered to carry her in his arms, or even piggy-back her over ever since the car crash. As great as that had felt it surely wasn’t safe for her sanity, or his battered body after Slade’s final showdown. 

“Your leg-”, he begins only to be cut short by her taking a step forward, a hand pressed onto his chest distracting him long enough for her to make her case.

“-is gonna be perfectly fine perched on the sofa. A pain killer or two will do the trick overnight. You on the other hand look like hell.”

He chuckles under his breath, the closest to a laugh he has let out in a while, something warming in his chest as she tries to backtrack from her failed wording as usual.

“I mean you look terrible-spent just...” She gives up, taking a deep breath. When she speaks again her voice is firm and leaves little room for arguments, “you are barely in one piece, Oliver. Just please, for once, don’t fight me when I’m trying to take care of you. You can do all the brooding in the morning, but right now I’m exhausted and by the looks of it you are too. So, pretty please, take the big, nice bed upstairs and be done with it.”

As usual, Felicity’s not wrong. His body aches like never before; now that adrenaline has dwindled down until serenity has taken over, every single cut and blow is making itself known. 

“Just this once,” he accepts a moment later, the familiar guilt residing in his gut being smothered by her beaming smile at his surrender. “But you are more than welcome to use it too, I can... make myself small.”

“Thank you but I think the couch will be safer.”

Whether she means safer for their bodies or their wandering thoughts remains a doubt as she gives him one final nod and climbs to the second floor of her small apartment to get it ready for him.

Barely a minute goes by as he remains taking her place in, Felicity’s personality present in every single touch in both rooms at sight, something that makes him feel more at home than he has in quite a while.

She’s back with another weak smile and a hand to his arm, another silent thank you passing through, one of many more to come as she keeps reading his thoughts and filling in the darkness this last fall-out has left him with. 

Without another word he walks upstairs and gets ready for bed, _her_ bed, colorful and pillow-crowded. He does his best to not dwell on it, or on those three damn words that had rolled off his lips last night changing seemingly anything but yet so much. 

He meant it, actually fully realized how much he does love her when voicing the sentiment; she knows too. Where they go from there is yet to be seen, and something to ponder at another time, he concludes as slumber takes over every fiber of his being when he finally slumps onto her bed. 

That’s how he drifts off; over mint green sheets, her smell of vanilla in the air, and the sound of falling water in the distance as... _Felicity’s taking a shower?_  

It takes him a full minute to focus back on the task and forget about _that_ , finally giving in to his burning exhaustion and drifting into a peaceful slumber as he hasn’t had in so long.

 

* * *

 

Felicity had been changing out of her clothes after taking the much needed aspirins, already eyeing with utmost excitement the make-shift bed her couch was, when she spotted it. 

_Blood_ , dry blood barely under the collar of her shirt. It was Oliver’s, surely from when she had tended to his cuts earlier and a stray hand had tainted her fair skin. She was well over the point of being grossed out by it, after over a year of doing this job she’d gotten used to -though still disliked- the gore that came with it. That was the tipping point though in her mental debacle of sleep versus shower.

Being careful of not making too much noise, Felicity made her way to the bathroom on the second floor that not so luckily was located right next to her room. 

She is in and out in ten minutes, reveling in the hot steam only long enough for it to soothe her aching muscles and wash away any trace of Slade’s attack, both to her and to Oliver. 

Having become aware a little too late of the fact her clothes are all in her room, a sigh of relief leaves her lips when she spots a familiar shirt on the hanger outside of her shower. It’s a lucky coincidence it happens to be one of her favorites, the one she subconsciously wears seeking comfort after a tough day. 

Slipping it on together with a fresh pair of underwear she finds downstairs, she’s falling onto her couch within two minutes, damp hair falling over the edge as she finds a comfortable position; any will do tonight.

A few hours of restless sleep go by, as nightmares come calling or a twinge in her side awakes her only for sleep to call her back under again. It may be at four or five in the morning when she crawls from under the sheets and blindly stumbles upstairs for a bathroom break; another two minutes and she’s back in bed, eyes still mostly shut as she snuggles against the pillow, pulling soft sheets over heated skin and popping a button of her shirt open as it seems to get hotter by the minute. 

_Was the couch this warm just a second ago?_ She doesn’t dwell on it, simply falls back into slumber doing her best to forget the last twenty four hours, at least for the time being.

It’s the next morning when it finally dawns on her. She will blame exhaustion for it; not a verbal slip this time, but a major brain one.

 

* * *

 

Oliver stirs in his sleep just shy of eight o’clock, the glowing numbers on the night stand startling him not only for how late and peacefully he has slept that night, but also for the mess of blonde curls that stand out between them both. 

Vanilla and an indescribable softness attacks his senses next, making him asses his surroundings, reality crashing back. 

Slade. The island. Exhaustion. Nowhere to go. An offer. Her bed. _Felicity_.

As if reading his thoughts she hums unintelligibly, her body shifting slightly beside his. Or under it would be more accurate, he realizes going stiff at the thought. 

He’s in her bed, that much is the same as last night; yet now she’s there too and in his arms, her back against his front, cradled in his arms, burrowing further into his hold. Apparently his hands weren’t idle as one lays on the pillow above her mat of hair, the other against her middle pulling her closer. 

He allows himself a moment to take it all in, relaxing with her touch, the way she hums and rolls against him, all warmth and softness, pink lips and blue eyes. Light blue in the morning light, ones that pop open as soon as they meet his twinkling with amusement.

Realization kicks in soon enough about where she is, apparently the why not being as clear as her brow furrows with confusion. She remains in his hold for another moment, questions playing on her features until she settles on this being real life and _definitely_ not normal. 

Felicity pulls back then, too soon if he has a say in it -at least before the rational part of his brain kicks in-; and leaning back to the other side of the bed, as far as she can without tumbling to the floor, she stares at him, words playing on her tongue. 

For once, he beats her to it.

“You took my offer of sharing the bed.”

She takes comfort in the fact his tone is more playful than anything, hoarse with sleep yet carrying a lightness that was absent the night before, and the one before that one and so on. Still there’s little she can do to fight the blush that taints her skin next, laugher finally leaving her lips before words as it finally makes sense.

“Would it sound totally fake if I blame it all to being on sleep-induced auto-pilot last night and wandering back to my room as usual?”

Her explanation comes though he truly doesn’t need any, a slight nod his sole reply as Felicity proceeds to tug at her shirt, one that reaches mid-thigh and leaves a pretty clear view of her legs. 

_Wait a minute..._

“Is that my shirt?”

“What?” Her voice comes laced with confusion that soon gets replaced by embarrassment as she follows his line of sight, taking in the light blue shirt she has on; her favorite, her go-to outfit for rainy days, _his_ shirt from that bittersweet, bullet riddled day of the Clock King’s final takedown. 

“Um, it is,” she offers blushing under his gaze, fingers coming up to close the upper bottom that revealed the delicate patch of skin of her cleavage, to where her deep blush reached and went beyond. “I sort of kept it after that night. Sara said I should and you never asked for it back so...” her attempt of an excuse drifts off as Oliver’s smile widens, the first full on beaming one since all hell broke loose.

He takes a moment and then their eyes lock again, the same warmth and that _something_ else that was present on the beach coming back in full force as his lips part again, giving voice to one thought that both further reddens her flesh and speeds her rapidly beating heart.

“Glad you kept it. It looks better on you.” 


	3. I've got this friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diggle faces Oliver about his plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it goes another scene of a possible follow-up episode to the finale; this time involving the other member of team arrow. It’s sort of inspired by aditunosaonserei’s prompt on tumblr about Diggle’s opinion of what goes down in the finale.   
> Hope you like it!

It doesn’t take long. Merely a day after they’d been back but he knew it was coming.

Oliver braces himself as Diggle enters the lair, a stern look on his face. He sighs and focuses back on the debris he’d been moving around, trying to salvage whatever is left of his other home. Diggle reaches his side, eyebrows raised at his best friend’s distraction tactics; as if that would make him stand down.

“Oliver we need to talk about it.”

“What’s there to talk about, John?”

He huffs in exasperation. Denial sure was strong with this one.

“I know what you did with Felicity.”

Oliver halts his movements and leans against his table, bracing what’s to come.

“How?”

“She didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re thinking. But you should have… You had your comm on.” His voice is firm, commanding, a hint of anger tainting his words. “We are a team, Oliver.”

With a final sigh he turns around and meets his accusatory stare, still what troubles him the most is the pain he can see in his face and hear in his voice.

“I’m sorry. I thought it was the best way to handle it, the only shot we had.” His jaw tightens remembering the internal battle he went through to talk himself into doing it, the unthinkable. “Trust me, I didn’t like it anymore than you did.”

“Oliver this is not about you putting Felicity in danger; we both know she’s more than capable of holding her own.” His best friend’s brow furrows and he clarifies. “It’s about you being stupid enough to keep the plan to yourself.”

“We needed him to believe it. I didn’t know if he would, and wasn’t about to take any more chances.”

Diggle laughs humorlessly, puzzling Oliver again. _He really didn’t see it, did he? How obvious they were._ For a smart vigilante he was quite blind to what was just in front of him.

“ _You_ trust me, he would’ve bought it either way.” Diggle had never been shy on his opinion on their relationship, or what he thought he saw between Felicity and him.

An unpleasant silence surrounds them then as Diggle wonders how to approach his last question.

“That last part.” He says and sees him close his eyes in understanding. “It wasn’t part of the plan, was it?”

Oliver breaths in deeply, still mulling over how he had let that happen, how he had voiced his thoughts even before he could make sense of them. Words aren’t needed for Diggle to get his answer.

He just shakes his head in amusement, knowing he’d been proven right; even through the comm. he had heard the passion with which Oliver had uttered those three words, followed by the fear and vulnerability in his last question. There was no way he had turned into a terrific actor overnight, especially with Felicity, with whom his attempts at excuses and lying had always been quite pathetic, and definitely didn’t sound like _that_.

“Does she know?” Diggle’s voice is calm, controlled after the pensive pause that followed Oliver’s silent confession.

“I don’t know” he admits in a whisper. “I didn’t know it myself until I said it. Then again she’s always been good at reading me.”

A half smile spreads across his right-hand-man’s face at his confession; _this was certainly a step forward, finally_.

“You could’ve told her at the beach, you know.”

Oliver turns his way and meets his smile with one of his own. “Yeah with you overhearing; it sure would’ve been romantic.”

They laugh for a moment, the sound strange to their ears though neither dwells on it. When the fun dies down Oliver turns serious again, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t think I’m ready, John.” His voice is shaky, fear lacing his words.

Diggle walks up to him and pats him in the shoulder. “We never are, man. But if you’re scared of it falling apart that’s when you know it’s real. Just make sure you’re set before jumping into battle. I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

“Me neither.”

His words hang in the air until a phone bleeps. Laurel’s name flashes on the screen and, after a few short texts exchanged, they agree to meet by the bar.

Still he turns to Diggle, placing a hand to his shoulder.

“Thank you, John.” His voice is sincere, no acting involved when it came to them.

A firm nod is given in return and before long he’s gone upstairs, Diggle left in the darkened foundry to pick up the pieces, hoping that for once his best friends take a chance at happiness.


	4. Never Want To Say It's Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is a short post-finale one-shot based on a prompt in tumblr by thenerddess (look for it at the end notes)  
> Hope you like it!

_I meant every word that I said_

_I stand by every word that I said_

_I never wanna say it's love_

_But it's really what I'm thinking of_

 

 

She didn’t know what to expect.

If there was something Laurel Lance had learnt in the past year was to expect the unexpected; that there was more to people that met the eye. Many secrets had unraveled, her life and loved ones being clear as day now –and not only because alcohol wasn’t in the mix anymore–.

Sara was gone, yet safe at least. Her father was on bed rest, surgery having taking a toll on him; but safe nonetheless. Her city was in crumbles, shaken by evil and vengeance again, though this time the only casualty in her life was normalcy.

In the last twenty-four hours she had worked alongside the Arrow and the Canary, masked heroes, and been kidnapped, yet again, by a vindictive criminal. Only now it made sense, why her… or at least she thought so.

Walking into Verdant, carefully avoiding the wreckage Slade’s men had torn off this place, she faced the one man that held the answer.

Oliver stood by the bar, studying the damage while he waited for her. A smiled tugged at his lips as he spotted her and she smiled back, mentally cataloging the several cuts he had now on his face.

“I’m fine,” he muttered at her worried expression. “How’s your father?”

“Recovering. He’s stubborn as hell though, if he had gotten that checked out earlier…”

“Well, it runs in the family,” he butted in before she got upset again. Her family’s health was a touchy subject. She smiled in return, her thoughts now drifting to what had brought her here. He seemed to notice the change as his brow furrowed in advance.

“I need to ask you something, Ollie.” At his slight nod she went on. “That day, when Slade took me, _us_ , and you showed up. He said we were there because the one you loved had to die. And, don’t get me wrong ‘cause I’m not making any assumptions about us, but I thought it made sense that he thought of me; giving our history… yet _she’s_ the one he was talking about.” Her words hanged in the air, there was no need to say who _she_ was, both knew and Laurel could already see how Oliver was bracing for her question.

“Are you two together?”

There was no complaint in her voice, though he could sense she was slightly hurt he hadn’t told her. Before he could mull over her question the easy answer came forward.

“No.”

Laurel studied him for a moment. She thought she had gotten somewhat good at reading through his lies after knowing him for most of her life, but the last couple of years had proven her otherwise. Still she knew, deep down there was more to it that he let on; and as much as he didn’t like to be pushed, she wasn’t one to stand down. After all he had done the same to her when she needed it the most; it’s what had lead her to pulling herself together after the melt-down.

“So she’s not the woman you love?”

Her words echoed in his head, and as much as he wanted to deny it, knowing it would do no good for anyone right now, there was something holding the words back.

Truth is when he uttered those three words to Felicity he didn’t mean it to sound like that, didn’t thought of saying them at all; what he had said before was more than enough to sell Slade the idea. Yet before he could hold them back the words had rolled off his lips, and in that moment he knew he meant it.

Now he was scared shitless of what to do next, what it meant for them. Since then he had been mulling over the fact he knew what he wanted but figuring out if he was ready to fight for it.

“We’re not together,” he repeated then; simple enough answer, still the truth without admitting something he wasn’t ready to talk about.

Yet Laurel could read through his diversion, the meaning behind his words and that lost look in his eyes. A smile spread across her face as she realized that, even through the hell his life had been lately, he had happiness in his life; had found peace after their relationship had crumbled to pieces.

Taking a step forward she placed a hand on his forearm making him meet her eyes.

“I’m happy for you,” she whispered with heart-felt conviction.

His eyes lightened as her words washed over him and, without the need to say more, she pulled him into a hug. Their eyes closed in content, knowing they’d found a good place in their friendship again, one where they could be honest with each other like never before.

“I swear if I got my hands on Slade now I’d kill him in a second. I can’t believe he destroyed my whole set up down there! It’s gonna take weeks to get my babies back on track. And with you being broke now it’s gonna take even longer to update it.”

Felicity ranted as she emerged through the lair's secret door onto the dance floor, eyes glued to the tablet in her hands. She stopped in her tracks as she looked up and saw Oliver and Laurel staring at her beaming.

“Oh I’m sorry, I thought you were alone.”

“It’s ok,” Laurel stepped in. “I was just leaving.”

Then, much to everyone’s surprise, she walked up to Felicity.

“Thank you for what you did the other day. That sure took a lot of courage and I’m not sure I would be here if it weren’t for you.”

“No problem, he got it coming and then some.”

Their smiles widened at her. Laurel now got the light Sara had talked to her about, how Felicity could make anyone laugh even in the worst of circumstances.

Laurel gave her a last smile before turning away and mouthing to Oliver ‘ _don’t screw this up_.’

He shook his head in amusement as Felicity neared him, still frowning at Laurel’s retrieving form.

“What was all that about? I’m not complaining, at all actually, but she’s always been kind of cold to me.”

“Yeah well, she’s growing up. We all are,” he finished meeting her eyes, a smile tugging at his lips again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! So the prompt was:  
> Oliver and Laurel where Laurel confronts Oliver about his feelings for Felicity and what Slade said in the finale. Maybe she asks him if he and Felicity are together and he says no. Then she asks “So she’s not the woman you love?” But he can’t deny it, maybe he repeats himself and says they are not together.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! And, as always, please leave a word or two with your thoughts to make my day :)


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